Flying Lessons 101
by KatieZ
Summary: Harry asks Ron what it's like to kiss a girl you actually like (one who isn't crying at the time). Ron's answer: "It's like flying." Harry finds out the truth about kisses, as well as the truth about Ron and Hermione. One shot, OotP spoilers. RHr HG


Flying Lessons 101  
  
Disclaimer: All characters, plots, etc. pertaining to Harry Potter belong to J. K. Rowling. All I own is the story.  
  
Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were out at the Quidditch pitch. Harry had agreed once more to help Ron out with his Keeper skills. Even at seventeen the tall redhead had never quite overcome his insecurities despite the two Quidditch Cups he had helped Gryffindor win. And that was how Harry found himself out on a Quidditch pitch not thinking about the Snitch for once, but attempting to score goals past Ron. Harry found himself relaxing despite the workout he was receiving. It was comforting to know that although some things in the world were spiraling out of control, Ron and Harry were still best mates.  
  
"Pitiful excuse for a Chaser, Potter," Ron yelled good-naturedly from his place in front of the goal hoops. "Even my little sister can throw a quaffle better than that!"  
  
"Your little sister just happens to _be_ a Chaser for Gryffindor!" Harry shouted back.  
  
Ron's expression became rather gleeful and as he passed Harry the quaffle for another shot he said, "_Percy _could make a better Chaser!"  
  
"Percy!" Harry choked out, taking aim with the quaffle again and pelting it at the middle hoop. He liked to think that he would have scored a goal if Ron had not blocked the quaffle and returned it to him.  
  
"Percy!" Ron agreed.  
  
"Well, even Percy isn't attached to the apron strings of a bird he's not even dating!" retorted Harry, a mental image of Hermione Granger, one of his other best friends, circling in his head.  
  
Ron's face immediately went bright red and he began to mumble something under his breath. Harry placed the quaffle under his arm, forgetting about Keeper practice, and urged his broom forward to approach Ron where he hovered in front of the goals. A malicious gleam appeared in Harry's eyes.  
  
"What was that?" asked Harry, a smirk on his face, "I didn't quite hear it."  
  
Ron looked up at Harry, murder in his eyes and a grin on his face, saying, "I said at least I can honestly say that at seventeen I've had more than just a sloppy, wet kiss in the Room of Requirement from a girl who cried her eyes out every second of the day!"  
  
Harry was just about to throw what would amount to a little more than a friendly punch when Ron's words finally caught up to his ears and he stilled his fist, staring at Ron, whose ears had turned bright red. Ron was flicking some invisible dust off of the handle of his broom, an embarrassed smile on his face.  
  
"Who have you kissed?" Harry demanded.  
  
"Bit more than just a kiss, mate," Ron declared with a smile. "More like a good healthy snog if you ask me."  
  
"Who!" Harry demanded again.  
  
"Who else?" Ron asked. He suddenly smiled as he put his hands behind his head and leaned back, making a comical sight on his broom as a smile came onto his face. "None other than Hermione Granger, brightest witch in the school. I swear, that girl was born knowing everything and sometimes it pays off."  
  
All of the sudden Harry felt awkward. Ron had hit the mark earlier. Being the Boy-Who-Lived did not make Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Snogged-Half-the- School. While Harry had indeed had a few more kisses than a sloppy, wet, miserable kiss with Cho Chang during his fifth year, he had never snogged any of the witches at Hogwarts. Suddenly envious of Ron, Harry also had the burning desire to question him.  
  
"So, Hermione snogs well?" Harry asked cautiously.  
  
"Don't tell her I said anything," Ron suddenly pleaded. "She'd have me locked away in Azkaban in two seconds if she found out that I told you."  
  
"Right, like Hermione will take off the time from studying for the N.E.W.T.s to give me the time of day, much less listen to what happened on a Quidditch pitch," replied Harry, rolling his eyes.  
  
Ron grinned. "But, yes, kisses like a bloody genius that one," Ron replied.  
  
Hesitantly, Harry asked, "Really? It was that good?"  
  
"Yes," Ron admitted, his ears turning red and grinning sheepishly. "I don't know how to describe it." Ron looked at a loss for a moment and then his eyes brightened as he continued, "Well, you know how you feel when you're on a broom, flying?" Harry nodded that he did know. "It's like that. It's like flying."  
  
Harry sat still on his broom, not certain what to make of this new information. Certainly he had never kissed a girl and felt anything remotely like flying.  
  
Ron was eyeing Harry uneasily and seemed to think he needed to say something to his friend. Ron opened his mouth and said, "You must just have bad luck with birds, mate. Always picking the ones who cry."  
  
"Hey, Lavender didn't cry when we were kissed," Harry said indignantly, snapping out of his thoughts.  
  
"No, but she nearly poked your eye out with her wand as she tried to reapply her lipstick in the middle of it," Ron chortled.  
  
"All right, so I don't exactly have a stellar record," said a disgruntled Harry. "It's not for lack of trying!"  
  
Ron took a look at his best mate and said, "Look, maybe you just haven't really wanted to kiss any of them. I mean, with Cho, first kisses are always bloody awful and it didn't help that she turned all teary eyed whenever you looked at her funny. And Lavender, well, I never really understood why you tried that one, mate, although I suppose she's pretty enough. Aren't there any witches you want to snog?"  
  
"Plenty!" Harry retorted, chucking the quaffle at Ron's head so that the redhead had to duck.  
  
"Right then, enough with the practice. We should head in. Dinner soon. I told Hermione we'd meet her there," Ron spat out as he sped towards the ground, intent on avoiding another of Harry's quaffles to the head.  
  
"I'll be in after a few minutes," Harry called to Ron. "Go on and meet Hermione without me or she'll be likely to have your head. I just want to fly a bit, you know, practice a bit while it's still light."  
  
As Harry flew around the pitch he thought about his answer to Ron's question. Of course he wanted to snog plenty of witches, but there was one in particular that stuck out in his mind and he knew that Ron would not appreciate it if he told him about that particular fantasy. Ginny Weasley, thought Harry, was one of the most wonderful girls he had ever met. She was smart, she was gorgeous, and she was funny and could always make him feel as though he had almost won a game of wizard chess before she beat the pants off of him. Besides, she was brilliant on a broom. Harry had seen her work as the Seeker in his fifth year when Umbridge banned him from Quidditch, but he had not paid much attention to anything besides how she handled her broom. It was really his sixth year, when she joined the team as a Chaser, that Harry noticed her. He remembered how he had almost lost the first three games she played in because he was too busy staring dreamily at her. It was more distracting than playing against Cho Chang, who suddenly did not present any distractions for Harry at all. Harry remembered how his teammates had yelled at him as the Snitch whizzed past his ear because he was too busy staring at Ginny's marvelous curves. It was definitely not his fault that the wind rushing past her pressed her robes against her body, showing off her beautiful breasts. Harry had been quite shocked indeed to discover that his best mate's sister had the most wonderful pair of breasts he had ever laid eyes upon. Curves like that should be illegal in Britain. He should have known that day that he was in trouble and that Ginny was the cause of it, but it would not be for another month and an unfortunate incident at dinner before Harry realized that he fancied Ginny Weasley.  
  
Turning out of a dive Harry thought back to that particularly embarrassing dinner. Hermione and Ron had been arguing next to him and Ginny had been rolling her eyes and making faces as though she were dying in front of him. If she had continued to do that all would have gone spectacularly, Harry was certain. But she had taken a break from her goofy faces to request that Harry pass her the shepherd's pie. Harry was convinced that he could have managed that one as well, but Ginny had smiled at him as she asked. If only she had not smiled at him, Harry was certain that dinner would have gone off without a hitch and he would have passed Ginny the shepherd's pie without incident. As it was he had merely stared at Ginny and put his elbow in the butter dish. Blushing furiously, he had started to splutter something about Quidditch as he grasped the nearest object, which happened to be a treacle tart, and thrust it into Ginny's hands. Harry had barely had time to notice that Ginny's face was flaming red as well, matching her hair. She had just smiled and taken the tart from him, not even asking for shepherd's pie again. Harry had been glad that Hermione and Ron had been otherwise engaged so that he did not have to either hear Ron's jokes or face Ron's wrath if he figured out that Ginny was the reason Harry had butter on his elbow. Just as Harry was leaving the dinning room, however, Ginny appeared at his side and silently handed him a handkerchief. He had taken it, confused.  
  
"For the butter," Ginny has merely told him, smiling and blushing again as she hurried ahead to catch up to some of her friends.  
  
Harry still had the handkerchief, without the butter.  
  
Suddenly, Harry looked up and realized that he had been flying for at least another hour and the sky had grown dark. Cursing himself, Harry headed for the ground. He knew that by this time not only had he missed dinner, but Hermione and Ron would be worried about him. As he landed, Harry saw the unmistakable gleam of red hair in the fading light by barrier around the Quidditch pitch.  
  
"You missed dinner," a female voice called out to him.  
  
Harry shouldered his Firebolt and headed over to where Ginny Weasley stood, keeping his head lowered and hoping he was not blushing too badly.  
  
"I lost track of time," Harry admitted as he drew closer to her, swinging his broom off his shoulder and leaning it against the barrier.  
  
Ginny smiled, then a light pink touched her cheeks as she looked away from Harry and held up a small bundle. "Hermione asked me to bring this out to you. She would have herself, but--"  
  
"But she has to study, I know," said Harry, amusement showing his voice. Ginny laughed at the expression on Harry's face and handed over the food. Harry untied the napkin and dug in, realizing that he was famished. As he was munching on a roll he looked over at Ginny, who was staring up at the sky. "Treacle tart?" Harry asked suddenly.  
  
"No, thanks," replied Ginny. "I already ate. Besides, I don't like it that much. Ron does though."  
  
Harry blushed furiously and continued to stuff his face as a diversionary tactic. Ginny appeared to be bored and he was just going to tell her she could go back to the castle, that she did not have to wait for him when she said, "Still enjoying your Firebolt?"  
  
Harry glanced at his broom, and then replied, "Yeah. It's the smoothest ride you'll find."  
  
"I wouldn't know," Ginny admitted. "I've never ridden anything as nice as a Firebolt."  
  
Suddenly, the roll lodged itself in Harry's throat and he swallowed hard. He stared at Ginny, who looked at him in turn. Finally he found his voice and stammered, "Did you want to ride it?"  
  
"I thought you shared my brother's opinion that women on your broom would curse it," said Ginny in an amused tone.  
  
"That's just applied to Hermione," Harry said quickly. "She's rubbish at flying. I reckon if Ron didn't fly double with her she'd fall off and his broom would go crashing into the Whomping Willow."  
  
"They're somewhat of a couple now, did you know?" asked Ginny. "Hermione told me this afternoon. Don't tell Ron she told me though."  
  
"Ron told me this afternoon. But don't tell Hermione I know," replied Harry.  
  
The two teenagers looked at each other and burst into laughter.  
  
"About time," said Ginny, wiping tears out of her eyes as her laughter subsided.  
  
Harry crumpled the empty napkin and stuck it in his robes. "Yeah," he agreed. After a few moments of silence he cleared his throat. Ginny looked at him expectantly. "Well, would you... you wouldn't happen to... did you want to have a go on the Firebolt before heading back up to the castle?" Harry spit out.  
  
Ginny grinned at him and nodded eagerly. "That would be wonderful, Harry."  
  
"Only thing is," said Harry, summoning courage from somewhere, "as there's only one broom and I don't fancy standing around here in the dark while you have all the fun, we'll have to ride double."  
  
Harry could have hit himself in the head after the suggestion fell from his mouth. You've done it now, Potter, he thought to himself. She'll turn and run into the castle for sure, telling all the birds on the way how much of a perv you are. Harry did not catch the sly look on Ginny's face before her answer tumbled from her lips.  
  
"All right."  
  
"All right?" asked Harry, his voice suddenly squeaking slightly. "Well, right."  
  
Harry helped Ginny vault the barrier and mounted his broomstick, motioning for her to sit in front of him. When Ginny had arranged herself on the Firebolt, Harry cautiously wrapped one arm around her, the other gripping his broom, and kicked off. They soared into the air and for a moment Harry concentrated only on the wind in his hair and feeling of flying. But then he tightened his arm around Ginny.  
  
"Marvelous," he heard Ginny whisper.  
  
"Do you want to steer?" asked Harry.  
  
"All right," agreed Ginny.  
  
Ginny's soft, slim hands replaced Harry's larger, calloused ones and now both of his arms encircled her waist as she flew his broom. She raced from one end of the pitch to the other, diving, looping, circling.  
  
"Harry, this is wonderful!" Ginny called to him, the wind tearing her words from her throat.  
  
At least another half hour passed, Ginny flying and Harry paying less and less attention to his surroundings and more and more attention to the young witch in his arms. Finally, when Ginny's cheeks were cold against his, Harry put his hands over her frozen fingers and they landed softly on the Quidditch pitch. Ginny got off of the broom and her cheeks were pink from the cold, her eyes gleaming with happiness as Harry, too, dismounted. He looked at her and thought she had never looked prettier than she did right then. Harry's eyes fell involuntarily to Ginny's full lips and the urge to kiss her was more than he felt he could resist. He took a small step toward Ginny, waiting for her to back up, but she did no such thing. Instead she flung her arms out and threw her head back, looking at the sky.  
  
"You rotten boy, keeping that broom all to yourself for so many years!" Ginny accused him, wagging a finger at Harry as he moved closer still to her, a smile breaking out on her face.  
  
"I'm glad you liked it," said Harry, now only a whisper away from her.  
  
Ginny seemed to finally notice that Harry was right in front of her. She blushed, but she did not move away. Her head tilted up to look into his face and she smiled again. Harry knew that her smile would be his downfall. It was a smile that blinding could light up the night sky. Harry thought that along with her luscious curves, her smile should be made illegal. How else was a bloke supposed to be able to think with her around, smiling all the time?  
  
"Knut for your thoughts, Harry?" Ginny whispered, her heart racing as she hoped he could not hear it.  
  
"Would you..." Harry stammered. "I mean... would you hate me if I were to kiss you right now?"  
  
Ginny's face flushed again as she slowly shook her head and whispered, "No, I think that would be all right."  
  
"All right," said Harry. He did not move, he just stood there, staring down at her, his broom clutched tightly in his left hand.  
  
"Harry?" asked Ginny nervously.  
  
"Right," replied Harry.  
  
He felt himself nearly shaking as his right arm gently encircled her waist. Her hands fluttered to his upper arms as he lowered his lips to hers. Harry bumped his nose awkwardly against Ginny's and she giggled as he changed his angle and felt his lips brush timidly against hers. Harry opened his eyes slightly to look at Ginny's face, making sure that she was not disgusted with him. He thanked his lucky stars that she was not pushing him away as he once again lowered his lips to hers and brushed them gently.  
  
Finally, Harry pulled away, his arm still holding Ginny, her hands still on his arms. Ginny's eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him, blushing once again.  
  
"I guess that's why you put your elbow in the butter dish," Ginny whispered.  
  
Harry chuckled and nodded, not caring that he was blushing as well.  
  
"We should head in," Harry told Ginny.  
  
She nodded and he swung his Firebolt onto his left shoulder, holding his right hand out to her. Ginny looked surprised at first, but then she threaded her fingers through Harry's and together they set off up towards the castle, the Quidditch pitch a dark shape behind them. Harry felt as though he were walking on clouds as he and Ginny made their way towards the castle.  
  
As they neared the entrance Harry thought of how he would tell Ron that his description of kissing was slightly off. For Harry Potter had found out that kissing Ginny Weasley was better than flying ever was.


End file.
